


Scientia

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Breakup, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4190598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward has known many things, over the course of his life. Rage, pain, grief, bitterness. </p><p>And now he knows heartbreak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scientia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day three of [RoyEd Week](http://royedweek.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr. The prompt was angst ~~or happiness, as if that was likely~~.

Ed has known pain. He has known grief. He has known helplessness and rage and bitterness and all the other sharp, splintering, fractured nuances of the human psyche. But he’s never known heartbreak.

Until Roy.

Until _after_.

*

Ed almost never misses Roy, after they break up. Except for when he does.

He’s on the train, heading back to central after a relatively uneventful assignment in which he’d had to depose yet another corrupt official, a leftover from the Bradley era. He does this sort of thing freely nowadays, a lot more comfortable with his role as a soldier now that he’s no longer an unwitting pawn in Mustang’s political game. And since his lack of alchemy leaves him unable to deal with anything like rogue alchemists or botched chimeras or any of the innumerable horrific things that alchemy is capable of, the missions Ed is left with are generally much more straightforward than they ever were when he was a child.

So when the middle-aged woman sitting across from him strikes up a conversation the moment he settles, Ed’s in a good enough mood to humour her, relaxing into his seat and listening with half an ear, nodding at the appropriate moments and injecting the odd generic comment. She’s complaining about her children, typical harmlessly rebellious youth from the sounds of it, and Ed’s busy amusedly wondering what she’d think of _his_ adolescence, so when she hisses the word _alchemy_ through her teeth like it’s something intolerably offensive, he’s caught off guard.

“…well Maya, she’s my youngest, headstrong little thing, she’s gotten into this _alchemy_ nonsense lately and I'm really not sure what to think of the whole business. I understand that it’s what all the young kids are into now, what with our new Fuhrer being one of _those_ people, and he’s very popular with my daughters and their friends, you see, and I won’t deny he is a handsome man, my word. But I've heard some mighty funny things about what those _alchemists_ gets up to, I tell you.”

“Really?” Ed asks, delighted. “What sorts of things?”

And he’s struggling to keep his face straight as she leans forward, voice conspiratorial, and tells him in a hushed voice about how she’s heard that alchemy puts all _sorts_ of funny ideas in one’s head. Take the local alchemist, Ernie, perfectly nice fellow, of course, but he always seems just a bit _off_ , if you know what I mean, a little touched, in the head, like, as though he’s living off in some other world, and it’s just the _strangest_ thing…

And Ed’s biting the inside of his cheek now, to keep from laughing, and he can taste the iron on his tongue but he can’t bring himself to care because he _cannot wait_ to see the look on Roy’s face when he tells him about this-

And then he remembers, and Ed’s stomach feels weightless for a moment and then _drops_ , like he’s missed his step going down the stairs. And the world _tilts_ , and he knows that he’s not falling but his internal organs aren’t so sure.

A heartbeat later and he’s reoriented, his insides settled back where they belong. His breath hasn’t even hitched. The woman’s still talking, though she stops a moment later when the train pulls into central station. He smiles at her when she bids him a kindly goodbye, grabs his luggage, and walks out onto the platform, knowing that Havoc will be waiting for him in a car, idling on the street outside with the windows cracked and seeping smoke.

Later, Ed stands in front of Mustang, back straight and heels together, words succinct and report comprehensive. Mustang nods, commends him for a job efficiently done, and dismisses him. Ed leaves after delivering a sharp salute, thinking as he goes that at least Al will enjoy the story.

*

Ed had always assumed that heartbreak would be something howling and fierce, all consuming and destructive like a forest fire or a volcanic eruption. When Ed had imagined heartbreak he’d imagined it as something tangible, like flame searing across skin or steel biting into flesh. Something conquerable.

Something endurable.

But now. Well. Now he knows better.

*

So Ed almost never misses Roy (except for when he does), and he will sometimes go days, weeks even, without thinking about Roy. When he takes the time to think about it (and Ed has had a lot of time to himself to think, lately), it surprises him, because he’s always been in the habit of carrying his failures around with him like iron shackles, dragging at his ankles and tugging at his wrists, making every day feel as though he’s working twice as hard to go half as far, until he just wants to _scream_ it’s so unfair, _haven’t I suffered enough-_

And at first, it _is_ like that, like iron on his body and rot in his lungs and ice over his mind, making every step and breath and thought a wrenching, desperate struggle. And Ed spends months of his life unconsciously looking for Roy, expecting to see him around every corner and in every coffee shop, at the cinema or in their favorite bookstore. Central’s not a very big city, really, and Ed lives half a block from Roy’s favorite tailor, and he passes Roy's barber every day on his way to base, and Roy’s favorite xingese restaurant is three blocks away from the university where Al lectures, and sometimes Ed ducks in there to grab a bite of eat before going to visit his brother. And he always expects it, the encounter, the moment of recognition, the rattle of the chains, but-

Roy doesn’t appear. It’s like he’s vanished, ceased to exist outside of the confines of his office. There he remains, a cold, unresponsive statue behind a mahogany desk, making Ed feel fifteen and untested and _small_. Except he’s _not_ , and it’s horrible, because he _knows_ now that that’s not all there is, and Roy just _won’t-_

So Ed is surprised, every time he realizes with a jolt just how effectively he _hasn’t_ been thinking about Roy. He thinks, when it happens, that maybe it’s a sign that things are getting better. For a moment he feels _good_.

And then he turns a corner one day, walking home from Al’s place, and sees Roy’s favorite street vendor. There’s a dark-haired soldier standing there, handing over coins and accepting his food.

And Ed is _terrified_.

He ducks his head, keeps shuffling forward, passes the soldier without looking up, afraid to see, afraid to know. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the soldier turn, and he catches sight of his epaulettes, the glint of the evening sun-

Off of too few stars.

And Ed is elated, even as disappointment rises in his throat like bile.

*

Ed has known pain. He has known grief. He has known rage and all the rest.

He has known heartbreak.

And it is all he knows. 

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a bit difficult for me, for various reasons, so feedback is always appreciated. :-)


End file.
